


I'd Rather Be With Harry

by moonflowers



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Chocolatier! Harry, Domestic, Eggsy in floral prints is the best thing that's ever happened to me, Fluff, Great British Bake Off AU, Humor, M/M, Pin-Up! Eggsy, Tumblr Prompt, spy husbands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2018-08-16 08:45:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 11,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8095624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowers/pseuds/moonflowers
Summary: Collection of Hartwin one shots from Tumblr. Mostly ridiculous fluff.





	1. Cakewalk

**Author's Note:**

> I've got quite a few little one shots that are just floating around on Tumblr and getting a bit lost, so I'll start posting them on here too for prosperity. There are probably several fics with this title already, but I couldn't think of anything else, so...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every year, the Great British Bake Off comes on, and I can’t help but want to shoehorn whatever I’m shipping at the time into a Bake Off AU. This time I actually wrote something, albeit very short.

Harry was going to win. There was no question of it. It had little to do with his baking ability - although it was exemplary thank you very much, if he hadn’t followed his parents wishes and become a barrister, he might well have made a career of it - so much as that Harry Hart did not like to lose. And to do so on national television, in front of his competitors, the entire country, and Mary Berry herself, was not an option.

Initially, the other contestants didn’t seem to pose much of a threat. Merlin he was already acquainted with due to a long standing friendship between their families, not that it would stop him from utterly destroying the man during bread week; Merlin and yeast had never gotten along. On the bench in front of him, a man called Valentine something - or something Valentine, either way it was absurd - was carefully arranging his ingredients. When they’d met the day before, he’d spent twenty minutes lecturing Harry about his ethically sourced produce. Most of the rest were just plain wet blankets doing it for their grandmother. It’d be a fucking cakewalk, pardon the pun. 

But there was one factor that he hadn’t counted on - Gary ‘Eggsy’ Unwin, who despite his ridiculously apt name that Harry refused to believe was anything other than a gimmick, might prove to be a problem. Apparently a pair of fine eyes, a charming backside and cheeks that flushed pink with the heat of the oven provided somewhat more of a distraction than he’d bargained for.

~

“Harry Hart,” Harry had been determined to greet his competitors with an inscrutable aloofness - he wasn’t there to make friends after all - but not so much so as to give him a reputation as a bit of a twat and damage his chances.

“Eggsy Unwin,” the man took Harry’s offered hand with a grin warm enough to melt chocolate. Damn.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine bruv,” the boy, Eggsy, replied, his eyes flicking quickly over Harry so fast that he wasn’t sure if it was all wishful thinking on his part.

“Nervous?” Harry asked through lack of anything more eloquent.

“Nah,” he shook his head and smiled again. Harry wanted to feed him petit four and brush his hair. “You?”

“No.”

“See you in the tent, then.”

They eyed each other a moment longer, weighing each other up in more ways than one, before moving off to introduce themselves to the rest of that year’s hopefuls. And if Harry’s attention strayed back to Eggsy once or twice as he said hello to Paul and Mary, well that was no one’s business but his own. And the rest of Great Britain, if he was unlucky enough for the cameras to catch him at it.

~

Eggsy was going to win. He bloody better. Ever since it’d gotten out that he was going to be a contestant on that year’s Bake Off, he’d had the piss taken out of him every time he’d dared show his face in the Prince. And if he didn’t make something of himself… well, to be honest he didn’t have many other options going for him if he didn’t. Back to the flat, to Dean, to the 'odd jobs’ that got shiftier by the day. Nope. He needed this. He’d fucking show them all.

The other contestants seemed nice enough. Within five minutes of meeting Roxy they’d mutually decided they were best friends - he was almost looking forward to getting the first day out of the way so the two of them could meet up at the pub afterwards and compare notes. The girl to the left of him was a smidge unnerving, not helped by the fact she seemed only to go by 'Gazelle,’ and kept fingering the knives. But that didn’t matter, he had this shit in the bag - avoid an incident like the infamous Baked Alaska Disaster a few years prior, and he’d be fine. As long as he could survive the inevitable egg puns from the hosts, anyway. Besides, Mary Berry would love him, and everyone knew that was half the battle. 

But there was one thing he hadn’t counted on - Harry Hart. Turned out that even Eggsy’s deepest determination to win this thing stuttered when faced with a view of that slim waist nipped in further by the apron tied around his middle, a smudge of flour on his cheek, the way his glasses steamed up when he opened the oven, and an uttered a string of choice swear words under his breath if something wasn’t going quite to plan. 

_Bollocks._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I assume all the contestants get to meet each other before the show goes on air. The fine eyes thing is shamelessly stolen from Pride and Prejudice.


	2. Pin-Up

Merlin had bought it for him as a joke, and a rather tame one at that, by his standards. It was gaudy and kitsch and matched with absolutely nothing else in his office, yet Harry still hung up the dreadful ‘Pin-Up Boys’ calendar purely so Merlin wouldn’t win. As expected, Merlin did nothing more than roll his eyes when he first caught sight of Mr January pinned above Harry’s desk, and it wasn’t until then Harry realised that he had no choice but to keep the damn thing up all year now Merlin had seen it, or he’d know Harry had relented and taken it down. And Merlin getting one up on him was definitely not an option.

On the whole, he managed to ignore the simpering men leaning suggestively over while they did the laundry or pulled a cake out of the oven, until May that is, when Harry flipped over the page to be faced with the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.   
The boy was holding a bunch of rather lurid flowers in front of himself, his smooth body apparently nude. He looked ever so sweet and just a tiny bit naughty, eyebrow raised in a hopeful, shy look, as though offering up the bouquet and himself along with it. Harry stared for much longer than was appropriate, feeling every inch the sad old man these things were marketed at. His hair was dark blond and golden in a way that surely must have been enhanced, and Harry would bet Mr Pickle that the boy’s lips weren’t naturally that charming shade of pink. He made any number of similarly snide comments to himself whenever he caught sight of it throughout the month, but they did nothing to make Mr May any less attractive. Mostly, Harry was simply annoyed with himself for being so enamoured with a pin-up boy in a cheesy calendar.  
Harry had gotten so attached, that when the month was through he carefully removed Mr May’s picture from the rest of the pages, and furtively slid it into his desk drawer. Mr June, pouting from under his fireman’s helmet and wielding a flatteringly large hose, was no competition.

~

It was a day like any other, unless you counted the fact that Harry was on the tube. He was following a fairly low-threat mark across London, which unfortunately included forgoing the preferred Kingsman black taxi in favour of the Underground. Things were going as smoothly as anticipated, until the train made it’s stop at Tottenham Court Road, admitting the crush of passengers typical for the time of day. Someone stepped on Harry’s foot, and he was vividly reminded why he disliked the tube so much. 

“Shit, sorry bruv.”

Harry’s curt reply never made it past his lips, as he looked up to find himself face to face with none other than Mr May himself. Harry was not a great believer of coincidence, but this rather took the biscuit. “Quite alright,” he managed to force out, after gaping at the man for several long seconds. 

“Don’t ride the tube much, do you?” he said with a knowing smile, chin tilted up, and apparently his lips really were that charming shade of pink.

“How ever did you guess?” said Harry dryly. 

Mr May smiled again but didn’t reply, instead pulling out his phone seemingly out of habit, huffing at the lack of signal. Harry was working up the balls to ask the eye-wateringly cliché question of “Excuse me, but you look familiar, have we met before?” when the train came to a stop at Holborn.

“See you around, yeah?” the man said with nod, before he ducked along with the wave of passengers to hop onto the platform, leaving Harry feeling more at a loss than he had any right to, and a little more guilty about the picture hidden in his desk drawer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I desperately want to make this into a proper full length fic, but I don't know if I'll ever get to it :(


	3. Chocolate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self-indulgent little Easter fic

Easter was, understandably, one of the busiest times of the year for Harry. People would flock to his high-end chocolate shop (he was all about quality, naturally) to purchase not just the chocolate eggs he decorated, but any number of the fanciful odds and ends he whipped up for the occasion. The little pink chocolate rabbits had proved a hit last year, along with the amaretto truffles if you were looking for something more grown up. And as much as Harry would grumble about the unnecessary frivolity of it all (Merlin had always pointed out that he must love it really - what's a chocolate shop without a little frivolity?) he did rather enjoy the challenge of coming up with something new and marketable and, most importantly, delicious. It also, Merlin would add dryly, gave him the chance to show off. 

The upshot of all the extra customers was that he ended up being rather pressed for time. Which was why, at ten minutes before he would normally be closing up one afternoon, he found himself catching up with a few personalised chocolate egg inscriptions. The piping of white chocolate to read 'Happy Easter' and whatever name the customer requested was dull but easy, hence Harry fitting it in while he had a few minutes to spare.

Given how late it was, he was rather surprised to hear the bell over the shop door ring. Harry looked up from his work to see a boy with his back to him, breathing hard as a group of men rushed right past the shop window, shouting all manner of rather ungentlemanly things. After they'd gone by, the boy sighed and visibly slumped in relief. 

"Can I help you?"

The boy span around, surprise quickly flickering to a slightly strained smile as he straightened up, squaring his shoulders. "Nah thanks," his eyes darted to the chocolate egg Harry was decorating, "just - just thought it might be nice to get something special for my little sister this year."

"Is that so?" Harry asked, knowing full well it wasn't - the boy had obviously ducked into the shop to evade the men pursuing him.

"Yeah, but you're a bit out of my price range bruv," he said, all bluster, but unable to hold back the wistful look that crossed his face all the same.

It was then Harry recognised him - he'd caught him looking at his window displays once or twice, when he'd thought no one was watching. He also thought he should perhaps stop mentally referring to him as 'boy,' he was easily into his twenties. 

Harry wasn't sure what made him do it - though he was certain Merlin would have one or two less than innocent suggestions - but he jerked his head at an egg he'd decorated earlier as a practice to get his hands working properly, a simple 'Happy Easter' and a flower underneath. "Take one. I insist."

The young man's face instantly hardened, his stance moody and defensive. "I don't need your charity, you get me?"

"It's not charity," Harry said tartly, picking the egg up from the counter so he could wrap it, "I ballsed up the lettering." He'd done no such thing of course, but he was getting the man to take an egg one way or another. 

"Oh," the fight seemed to ebb out of him as he watched Harry tie a length of bright yellow ribbon to keep the cellophane in place, but he was still wary, light on his feet, a half-grown puppy not sure if it should bite or run.

"There we are," Harry handed the wrapped egg over with a smile, and, as an afterthought, a handful of the truffles wrapped in a twist of paper.

"What are those?" the young man said, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Free sample," Harry said with a shrug. "I have to advertise somehow, the same as everybody else you know." Not quite true. No doubt Harry was getting soft in his old age, but he couldn't quite resist giving a little something over to this prickly, charming creature who he'd caught lusting after his window displays. He handed over his business card along with the chocolate. "Let me know how you like them."

"Harry Hart," the man read from the card, hesitating just a moment, still weighing up whether Harry could be trusted, before adding, "I'm Eggsy."

Harry raised an eyebrow, but resisted mentioning how fitting Eggsy's name was for the situation, he got enough of that already, no doubt. "Pleasure to meet you, Eggsy," he said instead. Eggsy nodded, and the two of them simply watched each other for a moment, caught in the fragility of their unexpected meeting. The longer Harry looked at him, the more aware he became of how attractive he found the young man, which seemed a good a reason as any to get him out of the shop, before he did something silly. "Do drop by again, I meant it when I said I'd like to know what you think."

"Yeah, sure," said Eggsy, with a flutter of a smile, "and... thanks."

"Not at all," said Harry briskly, "now get going so I can close up."

Eggsy snorted and turned to the door, tipping Harry a wink before he left the shop, setting the bell tinkling again and leaving Harry wondering if the boy would be brave enough to come back.


	4. Pin-Up 2: Kilty Pleasures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I have officially decided to make Pin-Up into a full length fic (I blame all of you) here's another fragment of it I wrote a while back. It's kind of spoilery for how the fic progresses - if you count Harry and Eggsy ending up together as a spoiler, that is.  
> The original prompt was from ottersandhedgehogs, who suggested Harry giving Merlin the Kilty Pleasures calendar as a glorious form of revenge. Look it up, it's wonderful.

Merlin should have known that when he'd gifted Harry with that ridiculous pin-up boys calendar for a giggle, that Harry would concoct his own convoluted revenge. He had expected it really, fair play to him. But what he did not expect was for Harry to end up shagging, nay forming a committed relationship with, Mr May of said sodding calendar. 

Mr May, who apparently went by 'Eggsy' when not posing for nude calendars, had done what any number of people had failed to do, and had successfully infiltrated Kingsman. Though Merlin wasn't entirely certain it counted as infiltrating when Harry had simply let the man in. He could be found about the place any day of the week, lounging on the sofa in Harry's office, watching Roxanne in the firing range, larking about with the tech staff and generally being an enormous distraction. But he could let all of that slide, massive security breach that it was, for one reason and one reason only. The delighted look on Harry's face whenever Eggsy strolled into the shop, the contentment that radiated from him whenever Eggsy leaned up to kiss him in greeting, or absently stroked his hair while he was catching up on paperwork. The old bastard deserved some happiness, and fucked if Merlin was going to take it away from him over a trifling matter like national security. 

He regretted his generosity though, when he entered his office one day in December to find an early Christmas present, precision wrapped, on his desk. The tag was written in Harry's even lettering, and Merlin seriously considered scanning it for anything potentially alarming until he actually bothered to read the note - 

_Perhaps this can do for you what your gift did for me._  
_H._

Still suspicious, and deservedly so, after the disaster that was his last birthday, Merlin pulled off the wrapping paper.

"Are you fucking joking," he said aloud as he stared down at the truly God-awful calendar in his hands, eyes assaulted by acres of abs and a plethora of tartans. 

"I told you he'd like it," said Harry to Eggsy from where the two of them had been lurking in the doorway, apparently waiting for Merlin's reaction. "I thought it might look rather nice above your desk," he continued breezily, "in my experience, they rather add to a room."

Many claimed revenge was a dish best served cold, but sometimes a swift retaliation was necessary and infinitely more satisfying. 

"Eggsy," said Merlin pleasantly, ignoring Harry's comment entirely, "have you ever happened to look in the top drawer of Harry's desk?" Harry stilled, smug expression gone. _Ha. Gotcha now Hart._

"Nah," said Eggsy, frowning slightly in confusion. "Why would I?"

"If you were to go into Harry's office and open the top drawer of his desk, I believe you'll find he still keeps a certain page of a certain calendar in there, despite having been in a relationship with the subject of said page for some months now." As far as Merlin was aware, Harry had no idea Merlin knew that he had the picture of Eggsy as Mr May stashed in his drawer, offering flowers, smiling shyly, and completely nude.

Harry looked mortified (ten points to Merlin) and Eggsy looked as though Christmas had come early. "No fucking way," he said, delighted. "You keep that picture of me in your desk?"

"Well, you see I - "

"I'm going to look," Eggsy declared, before darting off down the corridor.

"Fuck, Eggsy wait," Harry promptly tore off after him, Eggsy's laughter and sounds of their scuffle to reach Harry's office first echoing loudly through the corridor. 

Merlin leant back in his chair, satisfied with the result, as he contemplated the best place to hang his new calendar.


	5. Biscuits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why are so many of these about food?

“You do realise you still eat those like a five year old?” said Harry blithely, as he watched Eggsy and his sister enthusiastically digging into a plate of biscuits.

“What, the right way y'mean?” Eggsy said as he pointedly went about eating a jaffa cake the way any normal person would - bit around the edges, picked off the chocolate, ate the base, and finally the squidgy orange centre. Obviously.

“You’re ridiculous,” Harry said with fondness, and helped himself to another chocolate finger.

“Nah, it’s the best way. Ain’t that right Dais?” he winked at his little sister, who was determinedly gnawing her way through her fourth pink wafer.

“Yep,” she said, and promptly grabbed another one.

“Slow down yeah, or you’ll have no room for cake,” said Eggsy, though he didn’t have the heart to be any firmer with her. “The other’s aren’t even here yet.”

Ever since they’d moved out of the estate, and Eggsy had money coming in steady from Kingsman, he’d done his best to spoil his little sis every chance he got, give her the happy childhood she deserved. So, naturally, he’d gone a tiny bit overboard when her next birthday rolled around. He and his mum had laid out a tea party for her in the living room, with about five times more food than they could ever eat, furniture pushed back with squashy cushions all over the floor, and an extensive guest list.

“That’s rather hypocritical coming from you, darling,” Harry said, wielding one of the plastic pink teacups purchased for the occasion as delicately as if it were one of his own antique ones, the fantastic oddity that he was, “considering you’ve had six of those at least.”

“Alright _mum,_ Jesus,” Eggsy rolled his eyes, pressed a sticky, orange flavoured kiss to Harry’s cheek just to watch him squirm.

“Mm,” Harry smiled, brought his hand up to gently rub at the back of Eggsy’s neck; Eggsy knew he was dying to whip out his handkerchief and wipe away the sticky spot. “Just be so good as to save a Jammy Dodger for Merlin, would you? Or we’ll never hear the end of it.”


	6. Pemberley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I've loved the BBC Pride and Prejudice ever since it first aired, and I've wanted to do a Hartwin AU forever. Like it hasn't already been done twenty times. SHIRT SCENE YO.

Pemberley was beautiful, there was no denying that. Beautiful in the offensively well-moneyed way that made Eggsy afraid to touch anything mostly, but yet there was still a quiet sort of homeliness to it, for all the house's grandeur. The house and it's ornaments observed, Eggsy was wandering the grounds, his aunt and uncle somewhere behind, and in a bit of a daze. Of all before him, he might have had a share, if he'd accepted Mr Hart's wish to live with him there, in place of a wife. He was crossing the lawn and looking down towards the lake, reluctantly impressed with the view, when a figure emerged from a grouping of trees to the side. 

"Mr Hart," Eggsy blurted before he could stop himself.

"Mr Unwin," the other man came to a sudden halt when he spotted him, eyes wide and mouth a little agape in a look of surprise that Eggsy was surely mirroring himself. But the housekeeper had assured them the family were from home until tomorrow...

"I didn't expect to see you, sir," Eggsy said quickly, before the other man got any ideas about his barging in uninvited, "we thought you was away, or we never would've - " 

"I returned a day early," Mr Hart uncharacteristically cut across him. It wasn't until then that Eggsy properly registered the state of his attire - or lack of. He was soaking wet, jacket, hat and riding crop slung over his arm, shirt open in disarray and clinging to his arms and chest... good lord. It was the most undressed he'd ever seen another man for a long while. Not a woman, regrettably - his sisters were always flitting between each other's rooms in their petticoats with no regard for his poor eyes. All the same, he couldn't quite bring himself to be as scandalised as would be fitting. Mr Hart cleared his throat and shook his dripping hair from his eyes. "Your mother is well?" 

"Yes," Eggsy breathed, hoping the heat of the afternoon would mask the sudden warmth rising in his face as his eyes snapped back up to meet Mr Hart's. "Very well, thank you."

"I'm glad to hear it," Mr Hart nodded, hesitating as he searched for something to say in the unexpected mess of a situation they'd found themselves in. "I - how long have you been in this part of the country?" Eggsy had never seen the other man so visibly off kilter, not even when he'd refused the other man's decidedly unflattering proposal.

"Only two days," Eggsy replied, grateful Mr Hart was adept at small talk, or he'd have been left floundering and running his mouth and ten times more mortified than he found himself already. 

"And where might you be staying?" his voice was tight, grip hard on the rim of his hat, at odds with his carefully polite expression.

"The inn, in town." Eggsy was finding it incredibly hard to keep his attention focused above Mr Hart's neck. 

"Yes, of course," he paused. "I'm just arrived myself," he said, then frowned as he realised he'd as good as repeated himself, a flush creeping up his face to match Eggsy's own. "And - your mother is in good health? And your sisters?" he hastily added as he once again repeated an earlier enquiry. Not quite so composed after all, Eggsy thought. If he wasn't so hideously embarrassed by the whole thing, he might have found it endearing.

"Yes," he said, small huff of amusement escaping all the same, "healthy as horses, the lot of 'em."

Mr Hart watched him a moment longer, jaw working as though he wanted to say something more, tapping the riding crop in thought against his inescapably damp chest, when he caught sight of Eggsy's aunt and uncle approaching. "Excuse me," he said with a bit of a stiff bow, and strode off towards the house, with as much dignity as a man could when only half dressed and sopping wet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pretty much just stuck to the script from the episode - if this was a longer thing not done just for my own amusement, I might have changed things up a bit more. Eggsy's voice in a Regency setting and a little bit posher than normal is really hard ok.


	7. Afternoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is really teeny tiny, but it's something I think about a lot.

The two of them were smushed up real close on the sofa, Eggsy half on top of Harry, their legs tangled and deep breaths rising and falling together. Harry’d put some music on, and though Eggsy wasn’t 100% sure on what it was, it was cheerful and soothing and so _Harry,_ that he wasn’t all that bothered. The air between them smelt of blackcurrant throat sweets and the honey in Eggsy’s tea, he buried his head further into Harry’s chest to breathe in the smell washing powder and the port he was sipping at. One arm was curled around Eggsy, holding him close, dog-eared, soppy novel he was reading loose in his fingertips. Every now and then he’d sigh or huff in amusement at something on the page, Eggsy feeling every movement from where he’d crawled half inside Harry’s cardigan, hand clasping the soft wool, tracing the rounded edge of a button. JB was snoozing somewhere close by - Eggsy couldn’t quite be arsed to lift his head and find out where, but the happy little grumbly noises he could hear were enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: I want to crawl into Colin Firth's cardigan.


	8. Frost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This tiny thing was brought to you by the lovely frosty morning I woke up to, two glasses of mulled wine, and my strong desire for my next day off.

In all honesty, Harry would have preferred to treasure the only lie in afforded to both he and Eggsy that week rather than traipsing out for an early dog walk, but there you have it. As it was they were only up marginally later than normal, the sky still the clean pale blue of winter mornings, air cold and fresh in their lungs, the tops of buildings made sandy yellow by the early sun. But the usual scenery of the city that Harry was well accustomed to did take on a little extra something, with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be shut up at HQ all day with only the occasional glimpse of daylight through the window. Even JB, sniffling and snorting away with nosy enthusiasm at the pavements and roads made hard and dry with frost, was a more charming sight than usual. Eggsy’s fingers were clasped tightly in his, hands still chilled despite the thick wool of their gloves, nose and cheeks pink from the frosty morning. He had a little bit of a cold, which made him somewhat more irritable than normal, though Harry found the grumbly clinginess that accompanied it rather sweet, minus the snot. And when they shuffled back home, Harry would make them both tea, and they could prematurely climb under the big tartan blanket on the back of the sofa, cold feet tucked under each other’s legs, the radio murmuring in the background as they dunked biscuits and decided what else to do with their blissful day off. Perhaps, he mused, as Eggsy squeezed his hand and pressed a cold-lipped kiss to the corner of his mouth, an hour or two’s less sleep was worth it after all.


	9. The Best Part

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 8 from the kiss prompts list on Tumblr - A kiss in the dark

As accustomed to sleeping next to another person as Harry had come to be, decades of training were not so easy to erase, and as such he still woke when Eggsy pulled back the heavy duvet in the middle of the night and climbed under. The dip in the mattress under his shifting weight, the waft of cool air as he lifted the sheets to slip in next to Harry almost silently were more than enough to make him stir. And though Eggsy knew better than anyone his movements would wake him regardless, the fact that he was still taking care in an attempt not to do so was touching. 

Harry felt Eggsy draw himself in close, seeking his sleep-warm body and wrapping solidly around him, pressing his cold feet in between Harry's pyjama covered legs and breathing the deep sigh of contentment that signalled more than words could - they were both home, together and safe. Without bothering to open his eyes in the darkened bedroom, Harry turned his head, blindly searching out Eggsy's mouth for a kiss, clumsy and thick with sleep, a press of dry lips. Eggsy must have showered before he'd come to bed - his hair was damp on Harry's neck, and he smelt of soap rather than the aeroplane and stale clothing smell that was the norm following a completed mission, soft and scrubbed clean. They fell apart, Eggsy dropping his head to sleepily kiss Harry's shoulder, closed his arms around him a fraction tighter. 

"As much as I love what we do," Eggsy said, voice too loud in the thick darkness, "this is the best part."

"Getting home and sleeping for a week?" A sentiment Harry was intimately familiar with, though the idea of a long rest was often more enjoyable than the reality of being forced to take one.

"Nah you git," Eggsy burrowed in closer, breath hot on the back of Harry's neck and stirring the hair at his nape, "coming back to you."

"When you say things like that, darling, it gets me wondering which of us is really the old romantic."

"Shut up and go to sleep," Eggsy mumbled through a smile into Harry's skin, "I got plans for you in the mornin'."

"As you wish. I'm glad you're home." More than he could ever hope to express, he was glad Eggsy had come home.

"Me too."


	10. Patience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 13 from the kiss prompts on Tumblr - a kiss we had to wait for.

It was the longest fucking taxi ride Eggsy had ever had to endure. He'd stopped glancing at his watch every thirty seconds once he'd realised the driver had noticed him doing it - the Kingsman drivers were naturally discreet as fuck and top notch at keeping their feelings off their faces, but even he couldn't hide his smirk. They were drawing closer to the shop, and Eggsy fought the temptation to sneak another look at his watch as the car stopped at what felt like the thousandth fucking red light. He grew more fidgety, jogged his leg up and down in impatience, and wondered if Harry was as worked up about this as he was. Though he'd probably do a better job of not letting it show. 

They'd only been seeing each other a matter of weeks - a lot of shit still new and unexplored between them, only just starting to find their feet - when Harry had been called off to the US for a whole freaking month to map out a few things with the Statesmen. Thanks a fucking lot. Logically, Eggsy knew it wasn't anybody's fault, they were all adults with actually pretty serious work to be getting on with in the grand scheme of things, but it was hard not a sulk about it just a little. It wasn't like Harry was undercover or nothing, they'd chatted on the phone most days - and a few nights, during which they'd discovered Eggsy was prone to collapsing into laughter at his own attempts at dirty talk - but they couldn't touch. In all his days, Eggsy had never thought that would've been much of a problem. The most physical contact he was used to getting in the old days was a cuff around the ear or worse from Dean, or the occasional hug from his mum and his mates. Touching was just something he'd always thought he could do without. But with Harry gone... that he couldn't stretch up and press a kiss to his cheek just because, that Harry wouldn't suddenly appear while Eggsy was making a cuppa and plaster himself against Eggsy's back, that there was no hand running through his hair while they watched shit on the telly. Fuck, he missed it. 

The driver hadn't even turned off the engine before Eggsy had flung open the door and bounded up the steps to the shop. Much like the first time Eggsy had rushed to meet him, Harry was sitting on the sofa waiting, fire lit and glass of something at his elbow. This time though, he got to his feet as soon as Eggsy had barrelled through the door, suit a bit rumpled and eyes tired from travel, but fuck if he wasn't the best thing Eggsy'd ever seen. 

"Eggsy."

"Harry."

He knew it was stupid to just stand there grinning and staring at him like an absolute tosser, but Eggsy couldn't seem to get his feet to move, drinking in the sight of him after the dry days of him being away. But then Harry held out a hand and Eggsy's stupor was broken. He legged it across the shop, vaulted clean over the footstool and one of the cabinets, and jumped up into Harry's arms.

"Shit," Harry huffed when Eggsy threw himself at him, staggering a little under his sudden unexpected weight, but balancing when Eggsy wrapped his legs tight around his waist. He smiled softly and brought his arms up to clasp around Eggsy's back, steadying them both together. "I missed you too."

"Mm," was all Eggsy had the patience to say in reply as he pressed messy little kisses over every bit of Harry he could reach, before taking his face in his hands and kissing him fucking breathless, each wet press of lips or swipe of his tongue trying desperately to make up for the long weeks apart. 

"I know you have to go away," Eggsy said when they broke apart for air, the both of them breathing heavy and clutching at the other for all they were worth, "but fuck do I love it when you come back."


	11. Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a prompt from Tumblr asking for floral!Eggsy, though I strayed a little off the point haa. I got some really lovely comments on it though, so thanks guys :)

Observation was an important yet overlooked tool in the rather extensive kit of the secret agent, and it wouldn’t do to let it get rusty. This was what Harry told himself at least, as he peeked over top of his newspaper to where Eggsy lay stretched out on the sofa of Harry’s living room. It was perhaps a bit of a reach as far as excuses went, but he was going to take it. Eggsy had gotten back home from a mission at about eleven that morning, given Harry a drowsy kiss on the cheek, dragged on trackies and a sweatshirt, gulped down a mug of hot sweet tea, and promptly crashed out on the sofa for two hours. 

A few moments ago he’d woken up and rolled over onto his back, huffing in irritation as he dug his phone out from where it had fallen between the cushions. For some incomprehensible reason, he was still wearing his glasses, though they’d slid to the end of his nose as he frowned down at the screen, lower lip stuck out in thought as he no doubt caught Roxy up on the events of his trip. One knee was drawn up, the other leg hanging idly down off the sofa, tracksuit bottoms low and sweatshirt pushed up in his sleep, bunched around his middle and under his arms. His hair was delightfully mussed, still retaining the careful side parting from his mission, but fluffed up after his nap, the soft brown gold of unrefined sugar. There was a pink crinkle across his face where he’d sleep with it mashed into a cushion, lips tight and chapped because he was in the dreadful habit of biting at both them and his nails.

It was the sort of indolent graceful sprawling that put Harry in mind of the tales of Gods and their lovers, lying blissful and sated by soft-flowing streams and under the stars, or what have you. It seemed fitting, since all Harry wished to do at that particular moment was to dote on him - in an ideal world to stroke his hair and feed him grapes, juice running down his chin and sucked clean from Harry’s fingers. Then to kiss every hard stretch of muscle, plunder each plush curve of him, each freckle, the thin translucent skin of his wrists and inner thighs, leave reddened marks behind, like a sweet smear of pomegranate.

The sweatshirt itself was a recent purchase. Harry was more than used to Eggsy’s somewhat vibrant taste in clothing, all bold prints and obvious logos, and he’d made his peace with those. His initial reaction to this particular item had been to tell Eggsy outright that it reminded him of the wallpaper his Granny Agnes used to have in her sitting room, before she came to her senses and redecorated. But it had since grown on him. It was softer than the brash and harsh geometrics he often sported. Instead, a soft mint green, with dusty pink roses spreading down his arms and across his chest, buds and little roundish leaves unfurling from the flouncy blooms. As with several items in Eggsy’s wardrobe, it should have looked foolish, and yet did not. And frankly it did nothing to alleviate Harry’s image of him as a mythological youth, reclining amidst the green of an Ancient Grecian forest, or draped against a marble pillar. Though he doubted Hyacinthus or Achilles wore sports caps and complained loudly abut Charlie Hesketh’s Instagram posts.

Unfortunately, Eggsy was also in the business of observation, and soon noticed Harry’s eyes on him.

“Are you just gunna sit there and perv on me or are you gunna come over here and fuckin’ deliver?” He smirked and raised an eyebrow at Harry over the frame of his glasses.

Harry went through the motions of tutting and rolling his eyes. “Spoilt.” But he put his newspaper aside all the same.

“Yeah, and whose fuckin’ fault is that?” Eggsy didn’t sit up but shifted so he lay on his side, back pressed to the back of the sofa, apparently intending for Harry to lie next to him.

“Really?”

“Well I ain’t getting up.”

Harry relented and lowered himself to stretch out next to Eggsy, sofa cushions warm from where he’d lain moments before. He’d barely settled before Eggsy was spread out half on top of him, all thick limbs and soft hair still smelling of gel up Harry’s nose. Eggsy drew himself in as close to Harry as he could get, Harry’s hand dropping to the warm skin at the small of Eggsy’s back where the sweatshirt had ridden up further with his wriggling. For all the faults Eggsy’s tracksuit bottoms may have had, the way they clung soft to his arse felt divine under Harry’s palm. Even better was how easy the elastic waistband made it for him to slip his hand in, rest on the warm swell of his backside, run absently over the curve and dip as Eggsy shifted about under his touch. He was clearly finding it tricky to get comfortable, snaking up so that his chin rested on top of Harry’s head, his arms loose about Harry’s neck and shoulders, Harry’s faced buried in his chest.

On first impressions, Eggsy’s new sweatshirt had also put him in mind of ice cream, of mint chocolate chip, over-sweet strawberry and rich vanilla. Or perhaps Turkish delight, heavy and sickly pink, scented with roses. But of course it smelt like nothing of the sort, which after Harry’s runaway thoughts on the subject, was a little jarring to the senses. It didn’t even smell like Eggsy really, mostly just the odd tang of new clothes, still slightly crisp to the touch, not yet moulded soft with wear.

“I missed you, y'know.”

“Yes,” Harry’s hand drifted again to that sleep-warm stretch of skin at his lower back. “If it’s anything like how I missed you darling, I know.”

He felt Eggsy puff out a breath of laughter into his hair, press a kiss to the top of his head, leaving Harry to revel in the feeling of him back in his arms, and hiding his smile in the folds of Eggsy’s sweatshirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this](http://bluesilktie.tumblr.com/post/134235252604/i-bought-a-ton-of-floral-patterned-paper-from-the) art by bluesilktie, which I love with my entire being.  
> This didn't go quite how i wanted it to, but Harry talking out of his arse about how beautiful Eggsy is is my favourite thing.


	12. The Only One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thatgirl-who asked: “You’re the only one I trust to do this.” for hartwin :)
> 
> Thank you for indulging me :) This is only little, but I hope it’s ok.

“You’re the only one I trust to do this,” Harry said, voice low in the ear of one Mr Burrows, looking over the man’s shoulder to where Eggsy was waiting across the road for his signal.

“Yes, Mr DeVere,” Burrows nodded, already pallid and sweaty with nerves, dark patches under the arms of his cheap suit leaving him smelling of it despite his overpowering cologne. Harry tried not to breathe in too deeply as he discreetly handed him a USB containing false data. And a tracker, naturally. Old school of course, but he doubted the esteemed Mr Burrows would think to check for such a thing, skittish as he was.

“Good. Please don’t disappoint me.”

Burrows nodded again, swallowing anxiously, eyes darting up and down the street. “I’ll er, get going then.”

Harry inclined his head in acknowledgement but kept his silence, hands resting neatly atop the handle of his rainmaker, as the man scurried away into the dark. Across the road, he noticed the minute shift in movement as Eggsy remotely activated the tracker. He couldn’t quite see, but he’d put money on the odds Eggsy had winked at him as he did so. Satisfied things were going as intended, Harry turned, and headed back to his waiting cab.

And there he sat, not moving, outwardly patient but inwardly twitchy, waiting.

He was used to biding his time, but it seemed an age before the back door of the car swung open to reveal a grinning Eggsy, slicked hair out of place and falling in his eyes, as he slung a rather roughed up looking Mr Burrows inside onto the floor of the cab. “Just as we thought sir,” Eggsy said, hopping in after him and pulling the door shut, “he was playin’ us.”

Harry spared a raised eyebrow for the man watching them, lip split and slightly dazed, from the floor. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” Eggsy slumped into the seat next to him, trying in vain to sweep his hair back into place. “Tracker showed him heading straight for Mr Grey’s establishment.”

“Well. In that case, it’s rather fortunate we followed up on your suspicions,” Harry felt the familiar proud smile tug at his mouth as he looked across at Eggsy. “Well done, darling.”

Eggsy positively beamed at him, paying their traitorous guest absolutely no mind as he climbed into Harry’s lap, knee each side of his thighs on the leather seat, taking hold of his tie and reeling him in close. He rested their foreheads together; Harry felt his smile against his lips. “Well I learned from the best, didn’ I?” Harry’s laughter was quickly cut off by Eggsy kissing him hard, the frames of their glasses clicking together as Eggsy sat deeper into his lap, the heat of his thighs bracketing Harry’s legs. Being aware that it was hardly the proper time for such displays of affection did nothing to stop Harry’s hands from creeping up under Eggsy’s jacket, one splaying out across his back and the other bunching in his shirt at his waist.

“Who the hell are you people?”

Eggsy pressed one last biting kiss to Harry’s lower lip before turning to smirk at Mr Burrows, who was frowning at them in disbelief from the floor of the cab. “We’re Kingsman, bruv. And you shouldn’t have fucked with us.”

Harry’d never been more proud.


	13. So Bloody Lucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 38 - You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.
> 
> V. mild spoilers for Golden Circle, although I’m sure we’ve all studied every second of available spoilery footage in minute detail by now. The trailer came on last time I went to the cinema, and I absolutely lost it.

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” Harry said, looking down at the pug who’d just dramatically flopped down into his lap, panting and tongue lolling.

JB said nothing back, only blinked up at him and panted some more. Not that Harry could blame him, it was hotter than it had any right to be in May, the plants limp and wilting in the baking sun, the scent of cut grass and hot tarmac. But it was the perfect excuse to spend some time in the back garden of the house he and Eggsy had chosen together - not without great debate - after the unfortunate fate of the house on Stanhope Mews. It was a rather modest space, but the gardener did a good job; the flowers were pretty without being offensively bright, the patio tidy and the small square of lawn neat. JB loved it of course, and Daisy, when she came to stay with them.

“What are we to do with you, hm?” Harry said, absently scratching the dog’s ears, still unable to believe just how bloody lucky he was that they were all here at all.

“Alright babe?”

Before Harry could so much as open his mouth to answer, Eggsy had flopped down on the grass next to his pug, head in Harry’s lap and looking up at him imploringly in a rather good approximation of JB, begging for the same treatment. Harry tried his best not to laugh, and reached down to run his fingers through Eggsy’s hair too.

“Hello darling,” he bent forwards, back protesting slightly at the odd angle, to kiss Eggsy’s forehead. “I thought you and Roxy were doing something this afternoon?”

“We were going to spar a bit in the park, but it’s too fucking hot,” Eggsy screwed his eyes half shut against the sun. “And I reckon we freaked a few people out last time we did it.”

“Didn’t someone call the police?”

“Yeah,” Eggsy yawned, wriggled around to find a more comfortable spot for his head to rest in Harry’s lap, “Don’t know why, there wasn’t that much blood.”

“Mm,” Harry smoothed Eggsy’s hair back from his forehead, “quite the overreaction.”

They sat quietly for a time, though Harry’s legs were starting to ache and Eggsy’s face was getting pinker by the minute in the sun. It was simply too good a moment for Harry to want to disturb. In the end, Eggsy was the one to end it.

“I’m starting to quite like that eyepatch of yours, you know,” he said, squinting upside down at him.

“You mean you didn’t like it at first?” Harry said, teasing.

“Nah. It just reminded me of… everything,” a shadow passed briefly over his face, a cloud over the sun. “But if you didn’t have it, you probably wouldn’t be here, so,” he shrugged, or as best as he could while lying on the grass. “That and it’s sexy as fuck.”

“Be that as it may,” Harry said, “I might have to rethink it for the summer.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ll have a bugger of a tan line.”

Eggsy snorted with laughter, promptly choking on his own spit because he was lying on his back. Harry had to smack him between the shoulder blades until he stopped coughing, JB hopping around where they sat, barking, not wanting to miss out on the excitement.

“Never a dull moment,” said Harry dryly when Eggsy’s coughing had subsided and JB had wandered off again.

Eggsy gave him a weak shove and called him all manner of foul things that only made the two of them laugh even harder, breathless and grass stains on their knees. Yes, Harry thought as he helped Eggsy to his feet and all three of them headed back into the house, he was bloody lucky.


	14. Glitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 25 - I can’t believe you talked me into this.
> 
> We all know how much I love and need more floral Eggsy in my life. Very short, but hopefully fun :) Ta Phae <3

“Keep still babes, or you’ll get glitter in your eye.”

“Truly,” Harry said carefully, trying to not move his face too much, “that is a sentence I never expected to hear again.”

_“Again?”_

“I was a teenager in the late seventies and early eighties darling, and thoroughly determined to demonstrate to my parents that I would not be kept in the figurative closet. I’m well acquainted with glitter.” There was a twinkling of silver in the lower corners of his sight, catching a glimpse of said glitter in his peripheral vision.

“Well then, you know to stop fucking fidgeting don’t you,” Eggsy frowned in concentration, dedicated to the task at hand.

“Such cheek, coming from a boy with pink flowers painted on his face.”

“Yeah yeah, I look fucking fantastic, you’re jealous, I know. Now shut it and let me finish.”

He kept quiet as Eggsy finished off dabbing glitter on his cheeks, the only concession he had agreed to make for the occasion. Eggsy however, had whole-heartedly embraced the spirit of festival wear, dressed in a thin white t shirt he’d assured Harry would be cast aside within five minutes of setting foot in the field, and a pair of floral print shorts cut off just above the knee. Topping it off were the daisies painted lovingly onto his cheek, sprinkles of glitter in each of their centres.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” said Harry a few minutes later, scrutinising his admittedly tastefully glittery face in the mirror.

“And I can’t believe you’re wearing suit trousers and your sodding oxfords to a festival babes, but here we are.”

“I’m not wearing a tie,” Harry said lightly, mostly just to see Eggsy roll his eyes.

“You just wait, we’ll have you out of that shirt and waving a glowstick before the night’s out.”

“I sincerely hope not.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I take plenty of photos to mark the occasion,” Eggsy grinned at him and pointedly slid his phone into his pocket. “Time to go?”

“If we must.” Harry was protesting rather more than was necessary, considering they both knew that he wouldn’t dream of saying no, if it made Eggsy happy. He very much wanted to give him a kiss, but he was worried about smudging his daisies. Eggsy apparently had no such concern, pulling Harry down by the shirt collar to kiss him, and getting a smear of glitter on the tip of his nose for his trouble.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Eggsy said, fingers still curled into Harry’s shirt collar, “I know it ain’t your thing.”

“Not to be trite, but I’d be happy to go anywhere, Eggsy, as long as it was with you.” Harry had never expected to hear himself say something so sickly, but he bloody meant it. 

“Fucking softie.”

“Mm,” Harry reached out a finger to wipe the glitter off his nose, “and you’re welcome. Now, in the car before I have second thoughts about the sodding glitter.”


	15. Oblivious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, last of the prompts for now, this one from @the-girl-with-the-mousey-hair. Hartwin, 27 - I’m pregnant (said jokingly)
> 
> Haa this made me laugh. Roxy PoV, and a teeny bit Merlin/Roxy too.

Roxy was sitting on the terrace at the back of the manor, enjoying the unseasonable sunshine and going over the file for her next job. It all seemed fairly cut and dry, but she wasn’t about going to take chances and make a sloppy mistake. Absorbed as she was in reading it all through for the hundredth time, she almost, _almost,_ jumped when the door to the house swung open and Eggsy stomped over and flung himself down into the chair next to her. He was flushed in the face and frowning hard, and looked altogether terribly out of sorts.

“Are you alright?” she asked with caution. No doubt Harry had done something, good or ill, that had thrown him for a loop. Again.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Eggsy exhaled, short and hard, and stuck two fingers down his collar to loosen his tie. “Harry talked Merlin into sparring with him, y’know, to test out them new rainmaker modifications? If you’d seen what I just saw…” he shook his head, brought a hand up to rest on his belly to make his point.

“Ah.” So it was Harry then. Big surprise.

“Want to go watch?”

“…Yeah.”

~

Merlin and Harry hadn’t noticed when Eggsy and Roxy let themselves into the gym. Or more likely, they did notice and elected to ignore it. Harry was dressed in his normal full suit - Eggsy had confessed to her numerous times that he had a bit of a thing about seeing Harry fight while so impeccably dressed, had done ever since he’d witnessed him take out his stepfather’s lot - so it was hardly a surprise that he’d gotten in such a flap about it again now. Merlin was dressed as he would be any other day, pressed trousers and thick jumper, the formal wear oddly juxtaposed with how viciously the two of them were tearing into each other, pulling no punches as they swung the modified rainmakers about. It was all Roxy could do not to stare slack jawed at the pair of them - like Eggsy was currently doing - and instead vainly attempt to take mental notes on technique.

“Fuck me,” Eggsy said, dazed, “I know I’ve seen him work before but… _fuck.”_

“Mm.”

It was about then that Harry seemed to properly register their presence, spinning to face then while ducking a kick from Merlin. It was only a split second, but enough for his demeanour to adjust ever so slightly. She watched Harry closely while the next few blows were exchanged - his chin was held fractionally higher, chest out, arcs of his limbs made with a touch more of a flourish than before. Roxy had heard Merlin claim that Harry was ‘peacocking’ for Eggsy on more than one occasion, but _good Lord,_ witnessing it first hand really was ridiculous. 

When the two of them eventually stopped, breathing hard but looking pleased with themselves, swapping a thought or two on the umbrella’s performance, Eggsy was out of his seat like a shot and at Harry’s side. Roxy barely managed to contain her eyeroll, and followed him down to the mats.

“Impressive, sir,” she said to Merlin.

He nodded briefly. “Thank you, Roxy.”

“Did the modifications work as you hoped?” she gestured to the rainmaker now slack in Merlin’s grip.

“Yes, I think so,” Merlin said, studying the umbrella, “one or two kinks to work out, but if I get my way, and I shall mind you, in a few weeks time this’ll be the version you agents will be using across the board.”

“Good,” she said, tilted her head ever so slightly to the side, assessing. “Perhaps you could give me some tips on how to handle it, when the time comes.”

He raised an eyebrow, but nodded, slight lift to the corner of his usually stern mouth. “I’d be honoured.”

She glanced across to where Eggsy and Harry were standing, Harry all puffed up like a proud cat as Eggsy listed every move Harry had just made and how _“fucking cool that was Harry you have to show me how you did that,”_ and so on and so forth. Honestly.

“Do you think they know they’re in love?” Roxy said as Eggsy reached up to straighten Harry’s tie for him.

“I’d like to say that Harry’s not so oblivious as that,” Merlin said, “but I fear when it comes to that boy, he might just be.”


	16. Things You said at the Kitchen Table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things You Said at the Kitchen Table.  
> I got this prompt twice, so I've done two different fills that sort of go together. Part one - set after the first film but not compliant with the second.

"You kept it all," Harry said, his head a quietly chaotic mix of surprise, bewilderment, and overwhelming fondness for the young man currently rummaging through his kitchen cupboards.

"Yeah," Eggsy shrugged, and pulled Harry's favourite mugs from Harry's kitchen cupboard, exactly where Harry had left them months beforehand. 

"Might I ask why?" He could have let it lie, but he'd never been overly successful at that, when it came to Eggsy. It was like poking at a bruise, or shaking a gift to take a guess at what was inside - not the right thing to do, but no less irresistible for that knowledge. 

"Don't know," the tips of Eggsy's ears went pink as he filled up the kettle. "I s'pose... it was sort of like you were still here, if it all stayed the same. Like you might jump out from behind Mr Pickle and start testing me on table manners or somethin', I dunno. And," he said, still pink but grinning, "I didn't much fancy sorting through all your shit. It's like a fucking jumble sale in here mate."

"I'd be offended," said Harry as he pulled the milk from the fridge to hand to Eggsy, "if I hadn't heard Merlin call it much worse."

Instead of going through to sit at the dining table or in the sitting room, Eggsy headed straight to the kitchen table, and sat heavily in one of the chairs. Harry took the seat to his left. It was oddly intimate, much more than the last time they'd sat down together, for breakfast in the dining room during their twenty four hours.   
They sat without speaking for a time, both cradling their mugs and sipping their tea, swapping small smiles each time their eyes met. Every now and then, Eggsy would shift and wriggle in his seat, uncannily reminiscent of JB when he wouldn't settle in his dog bed. Harry had thought the silence comfortable, if somehow... charged. But the same was apparently not true for Eggsy, when after five minutes had passed with neither of them saying a word, he suddenly pushed his tea away and blurted - 

"I love you," he looked fixedly at Harry, set of his mouth tight and determined, grimly at odds with such a sentiment. "I'm sorry to throw it at you like this Harry, really, I am. I know you've only just got back here and you've had a shit time of it and your eye's fucked and all, but I can't just fucking sit here across from you and drink tea like everything's fine and say nothin'."

"Eggsy - "

"It's fucking stupid, I know. But If I don't say it now, you might disappear again, and I can't - "

"I love you too, Eggsy." Harry was well practised at keeping his emotions in check, but there were some cases when it was better to have it out, manners be damned, and this was certainly one of them.

"Oh. Fuck."

"Quite."

They watched each other across the table, tea cooling and almost gone, drops of it clinging to the wood where Eggsy had slopped his over the side of the mug. Harry was quite unable to move, and perfectly content just to drink in the sight of him.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Are you going to fucking kiss me or not?"


	17. Things You Said at the Kitchen Table 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second fill for the prompt 'Things you said at the kitchen table,' thanks Phae :) Sort of follows on from part one, but easily a stand alone too. Mentions of PTSD.

Eggsy woke up in the night. He didn't know what time it was, and it didn't matter; it was still dark, and hours before he needed to get up, and that was all that counted. He wouldn't be getting any more sleep though. Harry was sprawled out on the other side of the bed - for all his insistence otherwise, Harry was a sprawler when he slept - hand just touching Eggsy's arm. Despite his dreams, Eggsy always slept still as a fucking plank, always had done. His nightmares weren't always about one thing in particular either, often just a chaotic bombardment of noise and blood, but he'd still start awake, panicked and jittery. After a little bit of trial and error, he'd figured out the best thing to calm himself down was the thoroughly boring and ordinary process of making and drinking a decent cuppa. 

Leaving the kitchen light off, he grabbed himself a mug from the cupboard and flicked on the kettle. The moon coming in through the window was enough light for him to see by, the counters and the microwave and the biscuit tin all plated in silver from its glow. That and his familiarity with the kitchen itself was enough, bare feet cold on the tiled floor as he padded about, pulling the things he needed from their places. By the time the kettle had boiled, he wasn't shaking any more. 

He stood at the kitchen table, leaning his weight on hands pressed to the tabletop, lemony from the polish, and mug before him. It was one of Harry's favourite ones - blue and white stripes. He wasn't awfully picky about which mug he used, and it made no difference when it came to getting his head on straight again, but he liked it to be one of Harry's. 

A few minutes later, he heard Harry approaching, partly because of his own carefully honed senses and partly because Harry let him. Hands slipped around Eggsy's middle, big and warm and comfortable over the chilled bare skin above his pyjama bottoms.

"Hello darling," Harry murmured into the back of his neck, breath hot and disturbing the hair there.

"Hi Harry," he said, arched his neck back, seeking more warmth. 

Harry obliged, pressed a single soft kiss to the side of his neck, pulled Eggsy a little closer so that the whole of his back was met with the reassuring sleekness of Harry's pyjamas, the little bumps where the buttons poked into his skin.

"Is there anything else you need?"

"Nah," Eggsy said, "I've got my tea."

"Alright. Do you need to be alone?"

"Can you stay a bit?"

"Of course."

After all the time that had passed since Harry had come back to him, Eggsy still had trouble getting it into his head that he wouldn't be going anywhere again. It might get better, with more time. But for now, it was enough to know that, if Eggsy asked, he'd stand with him in the middle of the kitchen in the middle of the night, arms around him while he finished off his tea and the world outside grew brighter.


	18. Temptation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teeny tiny flowery ficlet for the Tumblr meetup :)

Harry thought - actually no, Harry _knew_ \- that Eggsy was beautiful in numerous ways, ways both complex and alarmingly simple, and altogether too many to count. But the incarnation of Eggsy that lay before him at that moment was one of his favourites. Not that a gentleman should have favourites, of course, but it was an indulgence he allowed himself.

Eggsy was still flushed from exertion and Harry’s attentions, slack and smiling and sleepy. Harry knew from experience that he’d bounce back as though nothing had happened in the next fifteen minutes or so, but in the interim, the picture he made was his to savour.  
The ivory sheets were rumpled underneath him, warm where Eggsy lay stretched on top of them. Thick yellow sunlight of late afternoon came slanting through the window, casting his eyelashes gold, warming his skin to a dusky rose. Just visible from the angle at which he lay were the edges of the tattoo - that strictly speaking he shouldn’t have had - across his shoulder and upper back, a clever mix of geometric shapes and delicate flowers, his softness and strength and open mind shown illustrated as one across his skin.

Soon just looking wasn’t enough, and Harry couldn’t resist unfurling from where he sat at Eggsy’s side, leaning forward to softly kiss at his chest, nipple warm and pink and maddening smooth under his tongue. Eggsy huffed and let him. Harry breathed him in, the faint smell of the body wash Eggsy used still there underneath the scent of sex, light and floral, pleasantly and perfectly tempered by something thicker and sharper. He reached out to run a hand over the soft flesh, aware as he ever was of the strength and hard muscle beneath it, and just as mystified that he should be fortunate enough that Eggsy trusted him, permitted him, to make him so vulnerable. Though really it ran two ways; Eggsy laying himself bare to Harry had made him do the same in return.

“The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it,” Harry said quietly, mostly to himself, into the heat of Eggsy’s neck.

“Mm,” he felt Eggsy yawn. “What’s that from?”

“The Picture of Dorian Gray.”

Eggsy snorted. “That ain’t very cheery. I hope we end up better off than that.”

“We will, because you are a better man.”

“Fucking hell, Harry,” Eggsy groaned, “lay it on thick, why don’t you.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help myself when it comes to you, darling.” He could, but he preferred not to. 

“Fuck, just - come here.”

Not waiting for Harry to oblige, Eggsy hauled him in for a kiss, roughened skin of his fingertips digging into the back of Harry’s neck, warm thigh against his side. A small part of Harry felt itchy at having wasted much of the afternoon in bed. But then, he thought, as he met Eggsy kiss for kiss and touch for touch, any time spent with Eggsy could hardly be counted as a waste.


	19. Secret Santa is Bullshit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas prompt: 'Secret Santa is bullshit'  
> Ta Lena :)

It’d been raining most of the afternoon, and the steady patter against the window was barely noticeable by the time evening had drawn in, as absorbed as Harry was in small stack of files he wanted to get through. The rain and dull work had lulled him to the extent that when he heard the front door open and bang shut, announcing Eggsy’s arrival home, it almost startled him. Almost.

“Secret Santa,” Eggsy said as he stomped into the living room, glasses and the shoulders of his jacket beaded with water, “is bullshit.

“Harry looked up from the file he was holding, the last in the pile, and JB raised his head groggily from where he was curled up in his lap. "Problem, darling?”

“Secret Santa,” Eggsy repeated. “It’s fucking stupid.”

“Oh?” Harry set the file aside. “What makes you say that?” He’d never much cared for it either, as he preferred to do things the old fashioned way, but he had a feeling their reasoning would differ. 

Eggsy stared at him as though it were obvious, lip curled in annoyance. “Well, I can’t ask what they want, can I.”

“No,” Harry shifted where he sat on the sofa, and JB grumbled softly at the disturbance, “I suppose that’s rather the point. But an unexpected gift can be nice.”

“It’s not unexpected is it,” said Eggsy sharply. “They know they’re goin’ to get something.”

“Don’t be obtuse, darling.” Eggsy rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I just - ” Eggsy floundered a little, shoulders slumping, some of the fight, the prickle, going out of him. He looked away, eye catching on the Christmas tree in the corner. “I dunno. Just another thing that’s different now, and I’ve got to get used to, I s'pose.”

It was obvious there was more to it than that. “Sit with me?”

“Alright.” Eggsy yanked his tie loose, took of his glasses to set them on the coffee table.

Harry moved so there was room for Eggsy to lie on the sofa with him, his head resting back on Harry’s chest, JB smushed cosily somewhere among their legs. Harry knew Eggsy sometimes found it easier to talk to him when he wasn’t looking at him, without Harry’s eyes tracking each minute movement of his face. Just the weight of him, the feel of him close by and holding him was enough comfort to coax him into talking.

“We never had a lot, on the estate, you know that.”

“I do,” Harry said, and kept himself from saying anything further on the subject. It was something they’d talked about exhaustively, why Kingsman hadn’t done more for the Unwins, and why Eggsy had made his peace with it. But they were discussing something else, and despite his lingering guilt, Harry wasn’t about to drag it out again now and distract Eggsy from what was troubling him. 

“We didn’t have a lot, none of us did. So when Christmas was coming up, yeah I’d treat mum to a box of nice chocolates or whatever, but I’d always ask her if there was something she wanted as well. Or needed, whatever,” Eggsy was twisting his hands together in his lap. “Once all she asked for was money for the gas bill. And my mates birthdays too - if there was a new game they wanted, or trainers, we’d club together and get it. No point in getting something if you know they ain’t gonna use it, you know?”

“I see,” Harry said, slid his hand up to tangle his fingers with Eggsy’s. “A rather sensible way of doing things, on some counts. My mother was always frightfully practical too. I naively bought her a bottle of perfume once, the first Christmas I was old enough to choose her present myself. Her exact words when she opened it were - honestly darling, the horses don’t care a whit what I smell like, it just as well be full of water.”

Eggsy snorted. Harry felt it through his chest. “Shit.”

“Mm.”

“I’ve just… I’ve never had a Christmas with so much money to blow, and I’ve got no fucking idea where to start.”

“Eggsy. You’re an insightful, observant, and thoughtful young man - ”

“Harry - ”

“And I have every confidence that you’ll find something perfect for your assigned secret Santa.”

“Thanks Harry,” he tipped his head back to look at Harry upside down. “You’re full of shit, but sometimes it’s the right shit.”

“You’re welcome, I think,” said Harry dryly. 

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me who you have to buy for? I might be able to help.”

“Nah, that’s cheating innit. I’ll be alright.” He tilted his head further back, back arching against Harry’s chest as he strained to kiss Harry’s chin, the only part he could reach. Harry kissed his forehead in return.

“Yes. You will.”


	20. Gluhwein

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand Christmas Hartwin Prompt number two: 'I'm starting to regret having taught you about gluhwein.'  
> Courtesy of thebarofgold, thank you :)

“Eggsy,” Harry said, straightening up from where he’d been peering into the kitchen cupboard, and set the packet of gingernuts he’d been clutching on the side,“might I have a word?”

All he’d wanted was to put the biscuits back in the cupboard, but apparently it wasn’t to be. Because there was a bottle of gluhwein in the way. And yesterday evening, he’d gone to get the gin out of the drinks cabinet, only to find three bottles of the stuff barring access to the rest of the cupboard’s contents. And that was really just the tip of the iceberg. Eggsy had covered what felt like every available surface in the house with bottles of sodding gluhwein, and it was time he intervened.

“Yeah, babe?” Eggsy appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame, peak of his cap pushed back and eyebrow raised in question. Harry instantly softened a little. Unfortunate really, having a spouse who looked as though he’d been carved by angels and had the heart of one as well, when Harry was trying so hard to be annoyed with him.

“I’m starting to regret having taught you about gluhwein,” was all he managed in the end.

The worried tilt of Eggsy’s brow was gone in an instant as his face broke into a grin. “It’s fucking delicious Harry, and I won’t hear a bad word against it, yeah? The bottled stuff ain’t quite as good as what they’re dishing out in the Christmas market but…” he shrugged, “I’m going to be drinking this shit right through the year, just fucking watch me.”

“Fortunate really, as you seem to have purchased enough of it to last the next two years at least.”

“It’s not all for me,” Eggsy rolled his eyes as he sauntered into the kitchen proper.

“Oh?”

“Nah. I thought it’d be a nice thing to go with people’s Christmas presents,” he said. “Half of it’ll be gone in a week.”

“Hm,” Harry grumbled, just about managing to keep the smile threatening the edges of his mouth in check as Eggsy moved into his space, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist, “well in that case…”

Eggsy reached up, smiling against Harry’s mouth for the barest of moments before he kissed him - short, sweet, slow presses of his lips that had Harry ducking down to chase him for more. His mouth tasted of the gluhwein; rich and alcoholic, citrus and spices. Harry licked is lips when they broke apart.

“Still regretting it?” Eggsy said, watching him smugly. 

“Yes,” Harry said, thumb smoothing over Eggsy’s cheek. He didn’t even like the stuff, not really, he just felt obliged to have a glass at Christmas. “But I’ll admit it tastes a lot better from you than from a cup.”


End file.
